One of the great things of having small kids is that they think that you are the most beautiful person in the world. They think you have the best hair, the nicest clothes, the best body and the most beautiful voice. I remember when I was little, I thought my mother had the most beautiful Opera voice..lol..the reason I am laughing is because it was not beautiful, in fact, when I got older it sounded like fingernails against the blackboard. But for many years when she sang “Momma loved the roses” by Elvis, I got baby goose bumps..lol. Me and my sisters would think she was the best singer in the world. I remember looking in her makeup drawer and thinking that she had the most perfect lipstick colours, bright poppy red. Her nail polish was brown, but perfect. Everything about her was beautiful and I was so proud of her.
I see it with my own daughter. Every time I come down dressed up, she looks at me and says “Wow mommy you look beautiful”. She also wants me to keep everything for her when she grows up. When I am wearing a pair of black heels or if I am wearing sparkly earings, she is just so excited, and she asks me to keep it for her for when she gets “big”..lol. Little does she know, she will not think it is so cool when she is older, especially when she is a teenager. I know that eventually she will look at what I have on, or at what I buy, and criticize it, or make fun of it.
Tonight she asked me how old am I going to turn in 2 weeks. When my husband said 35, she said, “NO..mommy is turning 15...right mommy?” I didn’t want to shatter her image so I agreed..lol. Then my hubby said again, “No, mommy is turning 35” and she responded with “No, daddy! 35 is an old lady and mommy is not old!”..lol. She sees me as beautiful and young. My son used to tell me that he wanted to marry me when he grew up, well that lasted a whole 2 years, now it’s “Mommy, drop me off in the front of school, I don’t want you to come in the back with me”. It happened so fast, so I am enjoying all my daughter’s compliments as long as it lasts.
Innocence in a child in the most precious thing you can imagine. They look at the world with their wide eyes absorbing everything in front of them. They always see the glass half full and they don’t judge others by their appearance, skin colour or size. Everyone is equal and each day, is a fresh start. If we can only keep that innocent feeling forever. If only we can bottle up their enthusiasm and keep it for their upcoming years of stress and disappointment, and if only we can always be as beautiful to them as we once were, when they were just fragile humans. If only, we can remind them, that when they looked at us, we were pretty.
That’s my peace today!
Fried Calamari
1 pound fresh squid (whole)
1/2 cup bread crumbs
1/2 cup flour
2 eggs
salt
4 tbsp chopped parsley
oil for frying
Wash squid, get sharp knife and cut into strips (whatever size you like). Salt the strips, dip in beated egg. Meanwhile mix flour, breadcrumbs and parsley in a bowl. Take the squid out of the egg bowl and dip in flour mixture. Heat oil in deep pan and deep fry. Garnish with parsley(optional)
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
The "No Carb" Italian diet
If you are Italian, then you know that Italian food is all about carbohydrates. We live, eat and breathe carbs. Everything we make involves some kind of doughy or starchy substance. Pasta, pizza, lasagne, gnocchi, risotto. I can go on forever listing all the carbs we love to eat. If you are fortunate like I am, then you also have an Italian grandmother (well I still have 2) and their cooking is filled with saturated fat, tons of cheese and of course..carbs. Whenever I have those days of wanting to eat less, I know not to go over for lunch to Nonna’s. First of all, it’s “Why are you on a diet? You look like a toothpick, you are going to blow away, I can’t even see you anymore..eat!”) Keep in mind it was 1 month after I gave birth, so you know I had had many extra pounds on my body. My grandmother’s did not see that, they thought I was the best I ever looked. Now you know, when an Italian grandmother tells you that you look beautiful, and says “now you’re good!” that means, (to put it politely...) chubby! In their eyes, you have to have meat on every possible inch of your body, but they are also very confusing, if someone is “too chubby” then they criticize and say it’s because they ate too much sugar and water as babies.
So let’s just say that you attempted to go over while dieting, my grandmother would have the table stocked with foods like, Stuffed eggplants (has breadcrumbs and cheese like crazy), Veal Cutlets (breaded and fried), Stuffed Ravioli (Pasta stuffed with ricotta), fried zucchini (breaded and fried), a huge tomato salad (dressed with half a bottle of olive oil), 3 different kinds of breads, and for desert, Zia Lina’s Panettone (made with 8 eggs and 1 cup of oil)..lol. There is no denying that you are going to eat like a queen, but because you are trying to eat light you pause. My grandmother asks me “what’s wrong? Sit down and eat before it gets cold”, I think, do I tell her there is more fat, cheese and oil on this table to fatten 1000 starving people? Or do I sit down and enjoy this feast? I hesitantly tell my grandmother I am trying to stay away from carbs..lol. OMG, she looks at me with this look like I just told her that the Pope is not really Catholic.lol...and she then she starts..”What do you mean? Shut up, sit down and eat! There are no carbs here, eat the ravioli”, and I say “Nonna, that’s carbs” she says “ok, then eat the Veal”, “Nonna, they are breaded with bread, and then fried”, she responds very madly “ok have some tomatoes with bread that’s diet food”..lol..she just doesn’t get it.
Italians believe that food is life, love and the reason we breathe. They make love to their food when they eat. It is something that must be enjoyed, and shared. Although I agree with the fact that we should love every bite, and I would choose a plate of my grandmother’s home made gnocchi (btw, the G is silent people..lol) than a frozen Lean Cuisine, but reality is, the food is fattening and we cannot eat grandmother food every day. I enjoy cooking “Italian”, but let’s lighten up on the amount of oil we use. Grandmothers are funny, they say, “Olive oil is the best thing you can have” yes it is healthy to have in small amounts, but try to explain to them that 2 cups of oil in every meal is not what nutritionists mean. They always have some statistic that they saw on RAI (Italian TV station) and then they repeat it.. “Do you know that if you have olive oil everyday with 2 glasses of wine, a loaf of bread and 10 baci chocolates, then you will live long like me..lol”..yes Nonna, I know, but everything in moderation. They don’t get the word moderation.
So the next time you feel like you need to lose a couple of pounds, then my advice to you, stay away from Italian grandmothers. They just don’t understand what a “No Carb” diet is..lol.
That’s my peace today!
Pasta e Patate
1/2 pack shell or ditalli pasta
2 potatoes
fresh basil
1 cup cooked sauce
1/2 white onion diced
4 tbsp olive oil
2-3 cups water
salt and pepper to taste
In a saucepan, heat, add oil, onions and sautee, add potatoes and chopped basil. Cook for about 7 minutes, stirring constantly to not stick, salt for taste. Add sauce and stir for 1 minute, add water, let boil, add pasta and cook as directed. Potatoes should also be cooked. Add salt and pepper as needed. This should be more of a soup than thick.
So let’s just say that you attempted to go over while dieting, my grandmother would have the table stocked with foods like, Stuffed eggplants (has breadcrumbs and cheese like crazy), Veal Cutlets (breaded and fried), Stuffed Ravioli (Pasta stuffed with ricotta), fried zucchini (breaded and fried), a huge tomato salad (dressed with half a bottle of olive oil), 3 different kinds of breads, and for desert, Zia Lina’s Panettone (made with 8 eggs and 1 cup of oil)..lol. There is no denying that you are going to eat like a queen, but because you are trying to eat light you pause. My grandmother asks me “what’s wrong? Sit down and eat before it gets cold”, I think, do I tell her there is more fat, cheese and oil on this table to fatten 1000 starving people? Or do I sit down and enjoy this feast? I hesitantly tell my grandmother I am trying to stay away from carbs..lol. OMG, she looks at me with this look like I just told her that the Pope is not really Catholic.lol...and she then she starts..”What do you mean? Shut up, sit down and eat! There are no carbs here, eat the ravioli”, and I say “Nonna, that’s carbs” she says “ok, then eat the Veal”, “Nonna, they are breaded with bread, and then fried”, she responds very madly “ok have some tomatoes with bread that’s diet food”..lol..she just doesn’t get it.
Italians believe that food is life, love and the reason we breathe. They make love to their food when they eat. It is something that must be enjoyed, and shared. Although I agree with the fact that we should love every bite, and I would choose a plate of my grandmother’s home made gnocchi (btw, the G is silent people..lol) than a frozen Lean Cuisine, but reality is, the food is fattening and we cannot eat grandmother food every day. I enjoy cooking “Italian”, but let’s lighten up on the amount of oil we use. Grandmothers are funny, they say, “Olive oil is the best thing you can have” yes it is healthy to have in small amounts, but try to explain to them that 2 cups of oil in every meal is not what nutritionists mean. They always have some statistic that they saw on RAI (Italian TV station) and then they repeat it.. “Do you know that if you have olive oil everyday with 2 glasses of wine, a loaf of bread and 10 baci chocolates, then you will live long like me..lol”..yes Nonna, I know, but everything in moderation. They don’t get the word moderation.
So the next time you feel like you need to lose a couple of pounds, then my advice to you, stay away from Italian grandmothers. They just don’t understand what a “No Carb” diet is..lol.
That’s my peace today!
Pasta e Patate
1/2 pack shell or ditalli pasta
2 potatoes
fresh basil
1 cup cooked sauce
1/2 white onion diced
4 tbsp olive oil
2-3 cups water
salt and pepper to taste
In a saucepan, heat, add oil, onions and sautee, add potatoes and chopped basil. Cook for about 7 minutes, stirring constantly to not stick, salt for taste. Add sauce and stir for 1 minute, add water, let boil, add pasta and cook as directed. Potatoes should also be cooked. Add salt and pepper as needed. This should be more of a soup than thick.
Monday, September 28, 2009
Parents are people too
Kids seem to think that parents do not have a life. Besides the fact that we are raising them, feeding them, bathing them and indulging them. We are not allowed to watch our own shows, surf the net, or read quietly in the living room. Our daily life must revolve around their every need and desire. Unfortunately, we fall into their little “baby made” traps, and fail to realize that we still need a life. We forget that we married someone because we actually loved them, we were passionate about them, and we got butterflies when we saw them. Sure, the butterflies go away (sometimes, replaced by ulcer like feelings.lol) but the love and the passion gets put on the back burner. It’s obvious when we become parents our time shifts, our priorities change and our activities become child friendly. Our TV channel remains on Treehouse or Family. CD’s in the car turn into Hannah Montana and Blue’s Clues Adventures. Some people say we lose a part of ourselves, I disagree; I think we gain our childhood back. It is obviously different, but the same excited feeling. The feeling of meeting Dora at Wonderland, because we see the smile on our daughter’s face. Or, the look on our son’s face when you hand them a signed hockey stick from CUJO. We live our youth all over again, while raising them.
A relationship between husband and wife must change with that. We both carry the same goals for the future, the same goals for the present. We love each other, but we put that aside from 7am-9pm when the kids are awake and need our every waking attention. We both will drop anything if one of the kids yells for HELP! (Which happens quite often in our home). We build a house into a home. A home filled with kids laughing and crying, fighting and wrestling, eating and making a mess. We married because we both had the same goal; to become parents together. The road along the way is bumpy, a roller coaster ride, but as long as you keep your eye on the ball and remember why you signed up for the ride in the first place, you will survive. Parenthood is a battle, a journey and a lesson. It teaches us that we can love beyond lust, passion and Jon Bon Jovi..lol(I had to throw that in). We celebrate each year, one day, the day we said “I do”. This year it will be my 10 year anniversary. 4 kids, 1000 arguments, and also 1000 laughter’s later. We are still kicking it together. The job is hard, long and sometimes it sucks, but doing it together as a team, makes it easier and sometimes less painful.
My parents are in their 60’s now, and they travel to Florida every couple of months. I bug them about it because I like to get on my mother’s nerves..lol, but they deserve every sun worshiping minute of it. They raised 4 daughters and it is their turn to reap their rewards. We all hope we can get to that place in life.
We sometimes forget that we need more than 1 night away, maybe even, a few a year. We also sometimes forget to say thank you, or please, or you look great honey. We sometimes take our journey for granted, we forget about how important our job is, as a team. One day, all the kids will leave the house, and besides the furniture, light fixtures, and some rugs, what remains is 2 people. 2 people that fell in love so many years back, 2 people that brought human beings in the world. Hopefully, 2 people that went out more than once a year, because we realized way back then, that parents are people too!
That’s my peace today!
Lasagna
1 pack of fresh or dry egg pasta (for lasagna)
1 pound of minced veal
1 800 gram pack of shredded mozzarella
2 cans or jars of tomato sauce
1/4 chopped basil
1/2 diced onion
4 tbsp olive oil
Cook sauce, put aside. Heat a pan, add oil, onions, basil and meat. Cook until no longer pink. Put aside. If you are using dry egg pasta you can get Paeso Mio brand they do not need to be pre boiled and they come out perfect for this. If you are using fresh pasta you must dip in boiling water for 1 minute and pat dry before arranging. In a 9x13 pan, pour some sauce (enough to thinly cover bottom), arrange pasta in one direction to completely cover pan, pour a layer of sauce, meat, and mozzarella.(I usually add some sauce in the meat mixture so it is wet and saucy). Repeat steps until you reach to the top of the pan. Finish with pasta layer and top with sauce and mozzarella. Cover with foil and bake at about 385 degrees for an hour (until cheese melts and bubbles.)
A relationship between husband and wife must change with that. We both carry the same goals for the future, the same goals for the present. We love each other, but we put that aside from 7am-9pm when the kids are awake and need our every waking attention. We both will drop anything if one of the kids yells for HELP! (Which happens quite often in our home). We build a house into a home. A home filled with kids laughing and crying, fighting and wrestling, eating and making a mess. We married because we both had the same goal; to become parents together. The road along the way is bumpy, a roller coaster ride, but as long as you keep your eye on the ball and remember why you signed up for the ride in the first place, you will survive. Parenthood is a battle, a journey and a lesson. It teaches us that we can love beyond lust, passion and Jon Bon Jovi..lol(I had to throw that in). We celebrate each year, one day, the day we said “I do”. This year it will be my 10 year anniversary. 4 kids, 1000 arguments, and also 1000 laughter’s later. We are still kicking it together. The job is hard, long and sometimes it sucks, but doing it together as a team, makes it easier and sometimes less painful.
My parents are in their 60’s now, and they travel to Florida every couple of months. I bug them about it because I like to get on my mother’s nerves..lol, but they deserve every sun worshiping minute of it. They raised 4 daughters and it is their turn to reap their rewards. We all hope we can get to that place in life.
We sometimes forget that we need more than 1 night away, maybe even, a few a year. We also sometimes forget to say thank you, or please, or you look great honey. We sometimes take our journey for granted, we forget about how important our job is, as a team. One day, all the kids will leave the house, and besides the furniture, light fixtures, and some rugs, what remains is 2 people. 2 people that fell in love so many years back, 2 people that brought human beings in the world. Hopefully, 2 people that went out more than once a year, because we realized way back then, that parents are people too!
That’s my peace today!
Lasagna
1 pack of fresh or dry egg pasta (for lasagna)
1 pound of minced veal
1 800 gram pack of shredded mozzarella
2 cans or jars of tomato sauce
1/4 chopped basil
1/2 diced onion
4 tbsp olive oil
Cook sauce, put aside. Heat a pan, add oil, onions, basil and meat. Cook until no longer pink. Put aside. If you are using dry egg pasta you can get Paeso Mio brand they do not need to be pre boiled and they come out perfect for this. If you are using fresh pasta you must dip in boiling water for 1 minute and pat dry before arranging. In a 9x13 pan, pour some sauce (enough to thinly cover bottom), arrange pasta in one direction to completely cover pan, pour a layer of sauce, meat, and mozzarella.(I usually add some sauce in the meat mixture so it is wet and saucy). Repeat steps until you reach to the top of the pan. Finish with pasta layer and top with sauce and mozzarella. Cover with foil and bake at about 385 degrees for an hour (until cheese melts and bubbles.)
Friday, September 25, 2009
Through the eyes of a mother
When our children are born, we check that they have 10 fingers, 10 toes, and a prefect little nose (especially Italians, noses are not exactly small).lol. Once all is in check, we begin the process of parenting. They start to walk, talk, laugh and imitate. We begin to enrol them in programs and sports for them to interact with others their age. Life goes pretty quickly, and before you know it, you are registering for kindergarten. They have their little assessment with colours, shapes etc. Life in school begins. Report cards, parent/teacher interviews are all part of the education process. Learning how to read almost seems impossible and far away, but before you know it, they are reading their own bedtime stories. You think they are the smartest kids ever. As a parent, we see through the eyes of love (a face only a mother can love..lol) We think they are the cutest, funniest, smartest and best in everything they do. They are our offspring and they are just perfect. You expect straight A’s on the report card and Olympic medals, eventually in their future. We are proud and they are perfect.
Our parents thought we were perfect, until we began proving them wrong. We lied, we cheated on tests, we didn’t run the fastest and we didn’t win the Science Fair. We were kids, we didn’t care if we were the best, we just wanted to have fun doing it. We didn’t stress over the B we got, or the second place ribbon for speeches, we just cared that we got it done and had time to play outside before it got dark. We didn’t over analyse situations with our friends from the fight we had at recess, we moved on and made up the lost time after school. We were kids, we didn’t want to be perfect, we wanted to be kids. Play, laugh, run, eat, and then by force, sleep. We didn’t carry the worry of our parents. If we didn’t make the soccer team, we were upset for a whole 5 minutes, and then we got over it. There was no dwelling on anything. Our parents felt the pain more than we did. My mother always said to me, “I would rather you cry now, then I cry later”. That was her way of telling me she was my protector, my shield for danger, my superhero. I just thought she was a pain in the ass.
We bring our kids to Sears, or Walmart or, if we sometimes feel like getting ripped off we go to “Here’s my Baby” and we get beautiful pictures done. A huge 16x16 for us, 2 8x10’s for grandparents and 200 wallet sizes, for our 200 closest aunts and cousins. We think that everyone wants a picture of our kids on their fridge, on their shelf and in their photo album. We look at those shots and see 4 perfect beautiful children. Perfect smiles, perfect hair, perfect shapes. (My mother actually thought I looked good in my grade 3 class picture..lol) My hair was all over the place, I had these huge buck teeth, and my ears looked like Dumbo, but when she looked at that picture, I was beautiful, my hair was neat, my teeth were straight and my ears were cute and little. She didn’t see my faults, she saw me through her eyes. She saw me as her 8 year old who was beautiful and just perfect.
That’s my peace today!
Arugula Salad
1 bunch of Arugula
1/4 cup of balsamic viniger
1/4 cup olive oil
1 clove crushed garlic
salt
fresh ground pepper
2 tbsp lemon juice
1/4 cup of sliced thin reggiano parmigianno cheese
2 fresh figs (optional)
In a bowl, mix oil, vinigar, salt and lemon juice and crushed garlic. Put washed arugula in a bowl, pour mixture on top. Toss, add cheese, ground pepper and fresh figs to garnish.
Our parents thought we were perfect, until we began proving them wrong. We lied, we cheated on tests, we didn’t run the fastest and we didn’t win the Science Fair. We were kids, we didn’t care if we were the best, we just wanted to have fun doing it. We didn’t stress over the B we got, or the second place ribbon for speeches, we just cared that we got it done and had time to play outside before it got dark. We didn’t over analyse situations with our friends from the fight we had at recess, we moved on and made up the lost time after school. We were kids, we didn’t want to be perfect, we wanted to be kids. Play, laugh, run, eat, and then by force, sleep. We didn’t carry the worry of our parents. If we didn’t make the soccer team, we were upset for a whole 5 minutes, and then we got over it. There was no dwelling on anything. Our parents felt the pain more than we did. My mother always said to me, “I would rather you cry now, then I cry later”. That was her way of telling me she was my protector, my shield for danger, my superhero. I just thought she was a pain in the ass.
We bring our kids to Sears, or Walmart or, if we sometimes feel like getting ripped off we go to “Here’s my Baby” and we get beautiful pictures done. A huge 16x16 for us, 2 8x10’s for grandparents and 200 wallet sizes, for our 200 closest aunts and cousins. We think that everyone wants a picture of our kids on their fridge, on their shelf and in their photo album. We look at those shots and see 4 perfect beautiful children. Perfect smiles, perfect hair, perfect shapes. (My mother actually thought I looked good in my grade 3 class picture..lol) My hair was all over the place, I had these huge buck teeth, and my ears looked like Dumbo, but when she looked at that picture, I was beautiful, my hair was neat, my teeth were straight and my ears were cute and little. She didn’t see my faults, she saw me through her eyes. She saw me as her 8 year old who was beautiful and just perfect.
That’s my peace today!
Arugula Salad
1 bunch of Arugula
1/4 cup of balsamic viniger
1/4 cup olive oil
1 clove crushed garlic
salt
fresh ground pepper
2 tbsp lemon juice
1/4 cup of sliced thin reggiano parmigianno cheese
2 fresh figs (optional)
In a bowl, mix oil, vinigar, salt and lemon juice and crushed garlic. Put washed arugula in a bowl, pour mixture on top. Toss, add cheese, ground pepper and fresh figs to garnish.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Can you hear me now?
What did we do 20 years ago without cell phones, email or the infamous blackberry? How did we manage to go to a movie or a house party without making sure our cell was charged and our contact information was full with friends’ numbers? The only thing I made sure I had was a quarter for the Bell payphone that I used to call my parents from to let them know that the movie would be over in 2 hours, and to pick me up at the front of the theatre. Today, you see 12 year olds walking around texting and emailing like it is their life line. A Christmas gift for me in Grade 7 was a pair of Cougar boots, not the latest pink Blackberry Storm. You hear parents justifying the fact that they like their kids to have a phone because at least they know where they are at all times. Now there is OMG, LOL, BFF,BTW, LMAO, and of course WTF! We are now living in a world of text and talk. I don’t think I have seen a payphone since my days of high school. Every week there are new phones, new plans and new features introduced for the Iphone, the Blackberry, the Itouch the bla bla bla..lol. I cannot keep up. I am not that old, and I don’t remember half the functions and features each phone offers. You talk to these teens and they text faster than I can read a sign, they are so tech savy, but if you ask them to give you change for a $20, they look at you like you’re an alien..lol.
We have all become guilty of tech dependency, I turn the car around if I realize that I forgot my phone. I might need it, just in case. I have 4 kids and you never know if they may need me. When we were going to school, our parents had to fill in the emergency contact information and put a home phone number or a grandparent’s number. Now, we have cell phones attached to our ears (literally) so we will be sure not to miss a beat. It has gotten so out of hand that they had to implement a new law against driving and talking..wow..that’s pretty bad. Isn’t it nice sometimes not to be reached? To make people wonder where we are and what we are doing and who we are with? Do we have to be available to almost everyone 24 hours a day? Do we really enjoy eating and texting, walking and texting or working and texting? I say, turn off your cell, close your laptop (after you finish reading this.lol), grab a cup of coffee, a good book and read. Say goodbye for just 1 hour to the world of high tech and say, “No, I can’t hear you now.”
That’s my peace today!
Shrimp a la Diavola
1 pack of jumbo raw shrimp
1 can tomato sauce or fresh tomatoes
2 clove of crushed garlic
2 springs of parsley chopped
1/4 cup lemon juice
1/4 white wine
2 tbsp chili pepper (or more if you like it spicy)
Olive oil
Salt to taste
Heat pan with oil, add garlic and shrimp. Cook for about 7-8 minutes. Add lemon juice and wine and parsley. After liquid disolved until about half, add tomatoes or sauce (whatever you are using). Add salt, and chili pepper until sauce is cooked.
We have all become guilty of tech dependency, I turn the car around if I realize that I forgot my phone. I might need it, just in case. I have 4 kids and you never know if they may need me. When we were going to school, our parents had to fill in the emergency contact information and put a home phone number or a grandparent’s number. Now, we have cell phones attached to our ears (literally) so we will be sure not to miss a beat. It has gotten so out of hand that they had to implement a new law against driving and talking..wow..that’s pretty bad. Isn’t it nice sometimes not to be reached? To make people wonder where we are and what we are doing and who we are with? Do we have to be available to almost everyone 24 hours a day? Do we really enjoy eating and texting, walking and texting or working and texting? I say, turn off your cell, close your laptop (after you finish reading this.lol), grab a cup of coffee, a good book and read. Say goodbye for just 1 hour to the world of high tech and say, “No, I can’t hear you now.”
That’s my peace today!
Shrimp a la Diavola
1 pack of jumbo raw shrimp
1 can tomato sauce or fresh tomatoes
2 clove of crushed garlic
2 springs of parsley chopped
1/4 cup lemon juice
1/4 white wine
2 tbsp chili pepper (or more if you like it spicy)
Olive oil
Salt to taste
Heat pan with oil, add garlic and shrimp. Cook for about 7-8 minutes. Add lemon juice and wine and parsley. After liquid disolved until about half, add tomatoes or sauce (whatever you are using). Add salt, and chili pepper until sauce is cooked.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
I have my mother's thighs
I think it is just the job of a child to blame their parents for every bad or wrong thing that has happened in our life. I did it, and I can see my children are starting to do it. It’s always, “Ma, that’s because you didn’t let me go” or “Ma, that’s because you didn’t bring me to lessons”. There is always a reason why things went wrong, and it was always my mothers’ fault.lol. Of course, as we say, the wheels turn, and now I hear “Mommy, I fell at school today, and it’s all your fault”. I reply with “How is you falling at school, my fault?” and my son gives me this made up reason, “because you didn’t give me a belt for my pants.” And there was my answer. Basically, it’s my fault because I gave birth to him, and when you’re a mother, you are responsible for all bad choices, or decisions, or falls, or scrapes, or break ups. (Mothers are not responsible for good decisions.lol). When you think about it, we are just plain rude. Our mothers gave birth to us, she was up all night when we were sick, she made sure we had everything we needed, we always had a roof over our head (even though my father claims that was his doing..lol), a warm meal every night, a cozy clean bed to sleep in, and clean clothes to wear. But for some reason we blame them. We know that no matter what we do or say, they will always love us. So of course we take advantage of that.
I have 3 sisters, and let me tell you, it’s not as fun as you may think it is.lol. We almost always compared our body parts..lol. Seriously, we did, and still do. Noony got dad’s nose.lol, Gina got Zia Franca’s legs, Am got Nonno’s aunt’s ass, and I got my mother’s thighs..lol. My great Italian, thighs. Why didn’t I get her full, C cup boobies?
I guess we are all guilty of wishing our kids inherit certain parts, like eye colour, height, even intelligence. But in the end, it really doesn’t matter what we inherit (even though sometimes it is really scary when I look in the mirror and I see my mother, more and more everyday..lol) If we begin to see our mother in us, then we must be getting old..lol.
I know the day will come when my daughters will sit around comparing body parts and pointing out all the bad and maybe some of the good parts. I can say, look at the family photos and you figure out where it came from. I remember the days when I would say to my mother “Ma, thanks a lot, for giving me your thighs.lol” and she would always answer back, “Who the hell should I blame?” I say, blame your mother, and tell her what I tell you, “Ma, it’s all your fault, I got your thighs.”..lol.
That’s my peace today!
Grilled Chicken Pesto Pasta
2 chicken breasts
1/4 cup of pesto
1/4 cup mushrooms
1 pack of pasta (I usually use Farfalle or Penne)
4 tbsp olive oil
salt and pepper
Salt and pepper chicken, place on grill. Cook evenly for about 15 minutes (Until no longer pink) Cut into strips or chunks (however way you like it). Set aside. Cook pasta as directed, strain. In a pan pour olive oil, saute mushrooms, add chicken pasta and pesto. Toss for about 2 minutes and remove from heat.
I have 3 sisters, and let me tell you, it’s not as fun as you may think it is.lol. We almost always compared our body parts..lol. Seriously, we did, and still do. Noony got dad’s nose.lol, Gina got Zia Franca’s legs, Am got Nonno’s aunt’s ass, and I got my mother’s thighs..lol. My great Italian, thighs. Why didn’t I get her full, C cup boobies?
I guess we are all guilty of wishing our kids inherit certain parts, like eye colour, height, even intelligence. But in the end, it really doesn’t matter what we inherit (even though sometimes it is really scary when I look in the mirror and I see my mother, more and more everyday..lol) If we begin to see our mother in us, then we must be getting old..lol.
I know the day will come when my daughters will sit around comparing body parts and pointing out all the bad and maybe some of the good parts. I can say, look at the family photos and you figure out where it came from. I remember the days when I would say to my mother “Ma, thanks a lot, for giving me your thighs.lol” and she would always answer back, “Who the hell should I blame?” I say, blame your mother, and tell her what I tell you, “Ma, it’s all your fault, I got your thighs.”..lol.
That’s my peace today!
Grilled Chicken Pesto Pasta
2 chicken breasts
1/4 cup of pesto
1/4 cup mushrooms
1 pack of pasta (I usually use Farfalle or Penne)
4 tbsp olive oil
salt and pepper
Salt and pepper chicken, place on grill. Cook evenly for about 15 minutes (Until no longer pink) Cut into strips or chunks (however way you like it). Set aside. Cook pasta as directed, strain. In a pan pour olive oil, saute mushrooms, add chicken pasta and pesto. Toss for about 2 minutes and remove from heat.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
That awful thing, called Love
Before we had kids life was pretty easy and care free. If you wanted to go for dinner, you went for dinner. If you wanted to take a trip to Paris, you went to Paris. There was no worry about anything beyond you, and what the hell you were going to pack, how many shoes you were going to buy, and how many men you were going to meet..lol. Living your life, only worrying about you, yourself, and I. You loved your parents, sometimes you loved your siblings, you kind of pretended to love your friends (except me, I loved all my friends..lol) and you maybe loved some man (or woman) in your life. You didn’t really think about anything bad that can happen. Listening to the news was no problem, you would feel a little bad, flip the channel and move on. Boy, did things change after the birth..lol. When you become a parent, you become a vulnerable, mushy, extra sensitive, eye watering, soft hearted big piece of mush. Your whole vision of life changes. Every decision you make, affects the life of another person. It is an unconditional love that you will only understand once you have entered the realm of parenthood. You will forgive, forget and forbid a lot more. Trips to Paris; become trips to Disneyland. Planning does not consist of how many shoes do I bring, but, don’t forget the Rosary for the plane ride..lol. Emotions are raw and out there. You wear your heart on your sleeve. You learn that your life is more valued because you need to be around, to raise them. You realize that you may sometimes not “like” your child (which my mother tells me quite often.lol) but you always love them. You have that constant nagging worry and fear of the world and what’s out there. You become a savage if someone touches or harms your child (unless it’s you beating them.lol) You work and want all for them so that they can have everything life has to offer. I saw an Italian movie when I was a kid and it was called “Zappatore”, translation “The Farmer”. It was about an Italian farmer who raised his son and worked hard, day and night just so his son could become more than what he was. His son became a successful lawyer in the city and was marrying a rich girl from the city, all the while forgetting about his father and the roots he came from. The father went out to find his son on his wedding day to tell him the mother was ill and that she wanted to see her son for the last time. (I won’t tell you how it ended.lol) He forgave his son for the shame he carried because he was his father and he loved him still. Parents love unconditional. We love from the heart, we love from the soul. We reach out to help another parent in need, or another child in need, because we think, what if that was my child? Your life does change forever, it makes you a different person, a softer person a more responsible person. Children make us better people, they teach us that it’s not about the money we make, but it’s about the fun we make with them. They teach us that sometimes life doesn’t go as planned, and that we may forget to bring extra shoes, but we will not forget to bring the first aid kit.
A childless couple once asked me this question, “How is it being a parent?” and I answered, “It’s awful”. They looked at me with a confused look? I went on to explain, “It’s awful because it’s so amazing, we love so much, so hard, so full, that it just consumes us. The love of a child is painful because you want so much to protect and shelter them, that your heart fills with worry and love, all at the same time.” They kind of understood what I was saying (or maybe they thought I had drunk too much wine). I could not verbally explain to them, the love of a child. To know the love of a child, you have to become a parent. No words, books or songs can explain to anyone else the way it feels, you will have to feel it for yourself, and when you do, you will know. When you bring your child home, your future becomes theirs. That’s when you will feel that awful thing called love.
That’s my peace today!
Bolognese Sauce
1 pound minced meat
1/2 white onion finely chopped
1 clove garlic finely chopped
1 can tomato paste
1 jar tomato sauce
salt to taste
1/4 cup of Olive oil
(optional, chopped carrots and mushrooms)
Pour oil in saucepan, heat, add onions, garlic and meat (if you are going to add carrots/mushrooms add now). Cook until brown, add paste, stir then add jar of sauce. Bring to boil, add salt. Simmer on medium heat for another hour or so. Leave on low until ready to serve.
A childless couple once asked me this question, “How is it being a parent?” and I answered, “It’s awful”. They looked at me with a confused look? I went on to explain, “It’s awful because it’s so amazing, we love so much, so hard, so full, that it just consumes us. The love of a child is painful because you want so much to protect and shelter them, that your heart fills with worry and love, all at the same time.” They kind of understood what I was saying (or maybe they thought I had drunk too much wine). I could not verbally explain to them, the love of a child. To know the love of a child, you have to become a parent. No words, books or songs can explain to anyone else the way it feels, you will have to feel it for yourself, and when you do, you will know. When you bring your child home, your future becomes theirs. That’s when you will feel that awful thing called love.
That’s my peace today!
Bolognese Sauce
1 pound minced meat
1/2 white onion finely chopped
1 clove garlic finely chopped
1 can tomato paste
1 jar tomato sauce
salt to taste
1/4 cup of Olive oil
(optional, chopped carrots and mushrooms)
Pour oil in saucepan, heat, add onions, garlic and meat (if you are going to add carrots/mushrooms add now). Cook until brown, add paste, stir then add jar of sauce. Bring to boil, add salt. Simmer on medium heat for another hour or so. Leave on low until ready to serve.
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